Big Bikes

Verge NECCS #6, W.E. Steadman GP
Warwick, RI

We finally got the conditions I’d been hoping for all season (mud)…then I showed up at the race with the legs of an arthritic Corgi, the heart of an Ant Lion, and the lungs of a three pack a day smoker. My brain on the other hand was not taking no for an answer. The little, grey, slimy bastard was hell bent on destroying what was left of my body.
The course was a vast improvement on The ’07 Caster’s cup from my standpoint (the standpoint of a guy who maxes out at 15mph on flat ground).The start and finish were on an uphill, there were tons of slippery, muddy corners, things were looking good.
As a result of my, er…result at Sterling I got myself a call up, I lined up second row behind Awerbuch and the other fast kids and we took off. I wasn’t that bad off initially, I was sitting in the top ten, spinning up the paved hill…but the hill flattened out for a while before the hole shot, I got swamped, call up was for naught. Thing is, I wasn’t even riding the corners very well, my head was not in it, my eyes felt tired, I wanted to take a frickin’ nap.
Honestly, I was so out of it through most of this thing, I’m not going to be able to put together anything like a coherent report. There was a whole lot of mad, frantic spinning, legs pooling lactic acid, hips and back aching, anaerobic panting, tongue wagging, gaps not closing, and backsliding, but my brain kept flagellating my body “Keep digging your on grave fruitboots!”, but I had all the form of a weird Jello salad mold.
Converse to my usual schtick I had started toward the front and was now getting caught and then dropped by groups of riders and left behind without any answer. I passed Colin Reuter and motioned for him to get on my wheel, by the time we got to the top of the paved hill he demonstrated that he needed my wheel like Joan Rivers needs another face lift.

Me, looking at the clock, Colin listening to his corner tell him to go for the knockout

R. “Ben Stiller in Dodgeball” Kelly groaned as I came past him, I was making his bad day even worse. “Damn you and your bike handling skills” he said after the race. Whatever my alleged bike handling skills may have gained me in the tricky stuff, I lost on the flats and straightaways. I was even spun out on the paved uphill, at least when I was trying to stay on Jeremy Dunn’s wheel, the guy is powerhouse. I looked pretty skilled too as I slid out on the off camber section by the crossing at the gazebo, real skilled…at sliding on my ass for ten feet. At least Richard Fries didn’t catch it and yell “Down goes Parsons! Down goes Parsons!”. Anyone else think that guy can be a bit harsh on people sometimes? “Todd Wells sprints like a Hippopotamus”. Not very nice.
Alright, I’m going to wrap this one up, it’s awful whiny, even for me. In the end I didn’t even do that badly, I finished 14th, in the points, but I was really hoping to do better than my 10th in Sterling.
It was all part of my master plan to not get called a “Sandbagger”. God forbid I should feel compelled to upgrade.